Annihilation Clash of Destiny

[The Lord of Hunger]

LOCATION: Aboard The Gluttoneria
OBJECTIVE: Interrupt the Ritual
IMPORTANT LINKS: Sword #1 | Sword #2 | Armor | Jewel | Ring | Necklace | Gauntlet | DIII Gluttoneria | The guards | KRONOS
TAG: Darth Caedes | Darth Ayra | Revna Marr | Deonis Laythar | Darth Vinaze | Da'Razel | Dark Forces | Onrai | Darth Solipsis | Darth Carnifex | Gerwald Lechner | Srina Talon | Vireth | @open

The manifestation of Onrai did not perturb the Lord of Hunger all too much, this entity had shown to be worth his attention and his observation, be it this form or that of her... avatars, yet perhaps it was the final reveal of the Sith cloaked in shadows and mystery which drew most of his attention, while KRONOS continued to work its way through the ship's many decentralized files and backdoor systems in order to get itself a detailed lay out of the superweapon.
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"Student."

His eyes seemed to light up ever so slightly, yet as he heard the clacking of boots on the pristine floors, they darted towards the origin of the sound, the image of a shimmering person cloaked in shadows and veiled in mystery finally began to unveil itself, as she unraveled the very mystery that she was in the eyes of the monstrous man. he hardly blinked, as yellow eyes were revealed, when mystery became reality.

A small bit of banter between the Demigod of the Anti force and the Hidden Lord drew the Lord of Hunger's attention, yet the words uttered there and then by Darth Ayra seemed to draw something from the man...or rather the monster the man had become. As the Deathstar itself was being permeated by the energy of the ritual, spreading across the battlestation like ichor from a wellspring, amplified and refined by spells and rituals, engorging on the carnage and devastation both inside and outside of the station., the Abomination within the force lifted The hand of Avaritia upwards and the pull began, the concentration of the force, bending to the will of the monster, fueling it, amplifying its presence, as this unnatural began to draw upon himself the very darkness within the station. The disruption of the ritual had already begun, and there was another who could break it if they utilized the same pull as He did.

"To deceive others, one must know when to reveal their hand, when to allow for they themselves to be belied and betrayed," A deep breath could be heard entering the Abomination's lungs, the armor heaving as his chest swelled and his arms and legs seemed to bulk up slightly. "I AM Hunger, I AM the devourer, I do not need to be at the very heart of the ritual to get what I want, I simply need to feel its energy, its unnatural draw of darkness...and now I will draw directly upon that which your pawns have so foolishly been preparing for their false sith'ari."

The air would feel heavy, practically toxic and devoid of oxygen, as the darkness swelled, the force concentrating as it entered into the monstrous man's own vessel. The ground began to warp, walls seemed to turn to wax, ceilings forgetting their function as they too started to wobble and wiggle. Everything began to twist and turn, yet did not lose its form or stability. At the center of it all, the Lord of Hunger stood, seemingly engorging himself upon the pull within the force.

"So...decide...you either bow or you bleed." It seemed these words were not meant to just the two within his vicinity, the Abomination's image, his crimson and golden eyes, the coldness of his armor and aura, it would be mentally transposed into all those close enough to the drain he had forced, those concentrating on this anomaly within the ritual... The Lord of Hunger had begun to devour...what was meant for Darth Solipsis ...

 

[Renn Vizsla]

Allies: Srina Talon | Aether Verd
Opposition: Maera Dren



The storm of fire only fed his advance. Where blaster bolts chewed the air and shrapnel clawed the floor, he moved like a juggernaut, shoulders low and rifle spitting red bursts into the defensive line. Around him, Death Watch pressed on through the killing field, their jetpacks flickering in short bursts to weave between detonations. The Imperials fought with precision, their discipline clear, but discipline was only half a war. The other half was will, and Renn carried it in every step.

Above, Squad Keld was locked into the rafters with Maera’s Besh. Sparks and shadows tangled as neither side yielded ground, a deadlock that thundered through the girders overhead. Renn knew they would not be breaking free to lend weight here. That suited him fine. Vhek shadowed him at the flank, blades ready, but Renn’s attention was already drawn to the figure cutting through the chaos ahead.

She moved differently from the others. Where her Death Troopers were a blade of unity, she was the hand that wielded it. Renn’s visor locked on the rhythm of her strikes, calculated, merciless, efficient. His warriors fell in the periphery of her path, but he didn’t waver. The Warmaster recognized the truth in her stance: this was no officer clinging to doctrine. This was a predator, sharpened by fire, standing to hold the line with her own hands.

Renn’s chest lifted with a slow breath, his voice carrying across the comms to the Death Watch pressing around him. “Flanks, hold your ground. She’s mine.” He strode through the haze, blasterfire painting his armor in strobing reds, the weight of his presence pulling Mandalorians into alignment around him.

The distance closed like a drawn bowstring. Smoke curled between them, the hangar’s alarms drowning beneath the sharper beat of their approach. Maera broke from her formation, intent and unflinching, and Renn welcomed it. His gauntleted hand tightened on his weapon before he let it fall to his side, fingers flexing as if eager for the clash.

For a heartbeat, the battle fell away. Stormtroopers screamed, blasterfire roared, jetpacks howled above, but none of it mattered. Vizsla and Maera moved into the same space, two predators circling, their soldiers pressing at the edges of a storm about to break.

Let Warriors Settle This.​